Speaking With the Dead
by GundamWingFanatic90
Summary: Companion fic to The Books of Dante. Maedhros Fëanorion was the brave warrior that followed his father to his death and never shed a tear, or so the stories say. Slight MaedhrosOC.
1. LETTERS

**_Written by GundamWingFanatic90. Submitted 4-9-07._**

**_Summary: Maedhros Fëanárion was the brave warrior that followed his father to his death and never shed a tear, or so the stories say. Maedhros receives a letter after Fëanor's death._**

_I finished writing The Books of Dante, and got the idea for this fic a while after. It was just begging to be written, and so here it is._

**_Maedhros, Maglor, Fingon, Fëanor, the Silmarillion, and all related/mentioned characters (c) J.R.R. Tolkien._**

**_Chapter Warnings: Slightly out-of-character Fëanor and Maedhros. I hope you do not mind._**

**_PART 1 OF 3._**_

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**_Speaking With the Dead.  
Part 1._**

_LETTERS._

Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanárion, or Maedhros, as he was known to the Sindar Elves of Beleriand, sat upon his cot, a sealed, yellowed letter clutched in his shaking left hand. He was still weak, recovering from his ordeal in Thangorodrim, but what caused his hand to shake was the sight of the wax seal on the parchment. It was the seal of the house of Fëanor, his father, and an elegant, flowing script depicted the amputee's name on the front of the thick, folded paper. The letter itself was well-worn and wrinkled from years of travel and hardship. After all, it was Fingon who had, at last, delivered the message to his elder cousin: Fingon, whom they had abandoned; Fingon, who had had to cross the Helcaraxé so that he could aid his best friend in his foolish quest to regain his father's Silmarils.

Maedhros closed his tired grey eyes and took a deep breath, casting a glance at Maglor and Fingon, who sat nearby with letters of their own.

"There was a letter for each of you, as well as for me, my father, and my uncle. I was told that another letter was left for Mahtan, Aunt Nerdanel, and grandmother Indis, as well, and for grandfather Finwë, should he ever return to Aman in hroä." He paused a bit. "I do not think that my father has read his, yet, but mayhap after reading my own I can convince him to look upon what his eldest brother had to say." Maedhros nodded in response to his best friend's logic.

"Then let us see what my Atar had to tell us in his madness that he could not say aloud," he mumbled, and, with trembling fingers, fumbled the letter open. The mere sight of his father's flowing script nearly sent his drained body into tears, but he fought them back with an iron will and began to read.

_Nelyafinwë Maitimo, Maedhros, my most beloved firstborn,_

_I understand that you are probably horrified and angry with me right now, as are many, concerning my actions of late. But please, read this through._

_It is with a rare moment of clarity that I write this and others, what will probably be my last letters from me, myself. The truth is that I have not been in control of my actions, thoughts, or emotions these past years. It is terrible, like living in a horrid nightmare, where everything I say or do harms those that I love._

_I greatly regret not being able to tell you this in person; I likely never will have the chance to._

_Outside of moments of sanity such as this one, it is as though I am watching an event play out from a distance, shoved into a mere corner of my mind as a master of shadows spreads words from my mouth that I would never, ever say, and taints hearts with darkness. If I had the will to overcome this evil, then I would; but its will is even greater in strength than my own, and even when you and your mother and brothers are in danger of facing the wrath of this creature in the shell of a body that is no longer my own I can do nothing to help you._

_When I say that I am no longer myself, I mean it in the most literal of senses._

Here, Fëanor's writing became wobbly, hurried and yet elegant at the same time; his hand had obviously begun to shake terribly. The ink was smudged in spots, and there was even what appeared to be a drop of blood on the parchment. Maedhros began to wonder just what his father had gone through to write this last letter to him. Feeling a great ache forming in his chest, he read on.

_Please, Nelyo, when the creature attempts to make you and your brothers re-swear that accursed Oath, do not do so! You are already cursed due to the Enemy's devices. If you somehow receive this letter before we land and I die- yes, I plan on dying soon, to rid you and your brothers of the peril facing you by being in the presence of this creature inhabiting my hroä and speaking with my mouth- then warn your brothers of what is happening to me. I expect that the shadow will not withdraw from me until just before I die, so please, I beg of you, do not swear that Oath again! Never make another Oath like it, or of vengeance. Vengeance and greed will produce nothing but grief, pain, and death._

His father had known that he was to die? He had not really wanted them to swear vengeance upon Morgoth? He had never wanted them to swear the Oath in the first place? Almost reluctant, he looked back down at the crumpled and stained parchment to read his father's last words, written in a rushed script that became nearly illegible from Fëanor's haste.

_My time grows short, Nelyo._

_I know it not if we will ever see each other again in this plane of existence, but know that if we never do again, it will be because I am serving my punishment in the Halls of Mandos or in the Eternal Darkness. In truth, I feel as though I should be damned to linger there for all of eternity, for failing you and your brothers and mother. I should have been stronger, strong enough that my will was able to overcome that of even Morgoth. I am sorry, my son, for all that has happened, and all that will come. I sit here at my desk in the home that I built with your mother, and tears fall from my eyes as I realize that your innocent hands will be stained with the blood of others by the time that we reach Ennorath. I only hope that you will be able to forgive me someday._

_I already feel the shadow beginning to encroach on my vision once more, and I must hurry to write this last group of thoughts._

_I know not if you know this, Nelyo, but I love you. My son, you are one of my greatest joys, the one that is foremost in my heart beside your mother and my father. Your brothers are there, too, but still, you are my firstborn and my heir. You were the one that I first held as your mother fell back on our bed, exhausted from birthing you. You were the one whose copper-down hair I stroked back from a tiny forehead, whose eyes, blue at the time, opened and looked up at me with a greatness already beyond your years. Even then I could see the black threads of fate entwining about you and myself, though I paid them no mind at the time and knew not what they were. Ai, if only I had known sooner!_

_I love you, Nelyafinwë. Never forget that, my beloved son._

_All the hope in what is left of my heart goes with you. May you not fall into darkness as I have done, and may you lead your brothers and cousin and uncle well. Be a good leader to our people, Maitimo, the voice of reason in the midst of the madness. Become the best of the house of Fëanor, Maedhros the Tall, no matter what may befall you. Goodbye, my son, and may the Valar watch over you and protect you always._

_Your father forever,_

_Curufinwë Fëanáro Finwion._

_Fëanor._

It was this last paragraph that caused Maedhros to finally shed the tears that he had been holding in. He clutched his father's last letter to his breast and wept for everything that had transpired; but mostly he wept for the sake of his father and brothers, who would no longer weep for themselves.

It was after the tears subsided that Maedhros collapsed back onto his cot, emotionally and physically drained, and whispered one thing before sleep overtook him:

"Goodbye, father. I love you, too."

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**_Sniff, sniff. That chapter made me cry whilst I was writing it!_**

**_As for Fëanor's letter: I think that Fëanor was not wholly bad. It is possible that he was being controlled, I think, kind of like demonic possession like you would see in The Exorcist or something. Hence the idea. I also think that if he had a rare period of clarity when Morgoth's mind was away from him, Fëanor could write letters to several people. This one was one of the longer ones, in my mind._**

**_This directly ties in with my other story, The Books of Dante, and so if you have not read that, then I recommend that you read it first. This chapter could be read as a stand-alone fic, but there will be other chapters to go along with it._**

**_I hope you liked the first chapter of Speaking With the Dead. The next chapter will be posted on the 19th if you wish to read it. Navaer!_**

**_-Fanatic_**


	2. MANDOS

**_Written by GundamWingFanatic90. Submitted 4-19-07._**

**_Summary: Maedhros Fëanárion was the brave warrior that followed his father to his death and never shed a tear, or so the stories say. Maedhros arrives in the Halls of Mandos after his fiery suicide._**

_A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed, including: lokimademedoit. Your encouragement meant a lot! Hannon le, mellon-nin!_

**_Maedhros, Maglor, Fingon, Fëanor, the Silmarillion, and all related/mentioned characters (c) J.R.R. Tolkien._**

**_Chapter Warnings: Slightly out-of-character Fëanor and Maedhros. I hope you do not mind._**

**_PART 2 OF 3._**_

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**Speaking With the Dead.  
Part 2.**

MANDOS.

Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanárion, Maedhros the Tall, gazed about himself at the grayness that surrounded him. A slight curiosity filled him: were these the Halls of Mandos? Or was the Eternal Darkness truthfully not so dark?

Suddenly, a voice hailed him from behind, and he spun to find himself faced with flying tackles of hugs from Fingon and all five of his brothers that had perished in the quest for the fulfillment of that foolish Oath. He laughed merrily as he returned their embraces, but was otherwise quiet, listening as they ranted about how boring it had been there without his infamous sense of humor to compliment that of Ambarussa's. It was at long last that he noticed the distinct lack of the person he wanted to see the most.

"Where is Atar?" he inquired once his siblings and cousin had ceased speaking for the moment. This immediately halted their jovial celebrations, and they became somber. Maedhros instantly felt dread begin to gnaw at his insides. He repeated his question.

"Where is Adar-nin, Fingon?" The one subjected to his question fidgeted slightly in what seemed to be anxiety, but no reply was forthcoming.

"Are you all angered at him yet? Did you not read the letters?" he exclaimed, his secret worry causing his tone to bite. Celegorm shook his fair head.

"We read the letters, Maedhros," he answered. "But Atar…" He paused, searching for words. "He… He is not here, Nelyo." Maitimo paled.

"Was he condemned to the Eternal Darkness, then?" he burst out. Celegorm shook his head violently, holding up his hands in a comforting gesture.

"No, he is here in the Halls, but… it is as though his mind is not with his fëa. His eyes are blank and glassy, and he no more responds to us than to even Námo Mandos himself. It is as though he is just a shell, Maitimo." Maedhros swallowed thickly and closed his eyes at the notion of his mighty father being only a shell of the bright spirit that he once was. It only took him an instant to make up his mind.

"Take me to him."

What Maedhros beheld when he saw his father in that dark chamber of the Halls of Mandos was something that would nevermore leave his memories.

Fëanor's green eyes were glassy and wet with tears, hollow in guilt and grief. No matter what Maedhros did, his dark-haired father responded to him not. Eventually, he left his father's side to rejoin his brothers and cousin.

As he walked back toward his family, he found his way to be blocked by an elleth with long, braided black hair, and silver eyes that flashed aqua with her emotions. She wore a long tunic and leggings and a cloak, and gazed up at him with amusement and curiosity.

"Maedhros Fëanorion, correct?" He paused at the sound of her voice, a tingling spreading through him. Who was she? Why was he feeling this?

"Yes. Who are you?" She smiled, and if he had been corporeal, his heart would have fluttered slightly.

"I am Dínenweth, captain of the Guardians of Valinor. Now, to business. Are you prepared to return to your hroä, yet?" He blinked in surprise. He had not even been there as long as his family had, and already he was being considered for rebirth?

"Why me? Would I not see one of my brothers, my cousin, or my father re-embodied before I am! They deserve it more than I." A small smile stretched across the elleth's mouth.

"You, your brothers, and your cousin are ready to be reincarnated. None of you are bound to the Oath- your father never willed it in the first place, as has only been recently discovered by the Valar. Furthermore, once they learned of your misguidance, all those that you slew forgave you, and all have already been re-embodied. It is time for you and your brothers and cousin to be gifted with the same chance." A small smile graced Maitimo's lips.

"Thank you, but what about my father?" With this question, the elleth's expression saddened slightly, her strange eyes questing over to rest on Fëanor.

"He needs to come to terms with the exploitation that he suffered at the hands of the Dark One before he can be brought back into the flesh. To do so, we will need the aid of your mother, and you and your brothers and cousin are the only ones who will be able to tell her of this task. And so I again ask: are you ready to return to your hroä, Son of Fëanor?" A decisive nod was his reply, and she smiled.

"Good." Then all went black for Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanorion, and Maedhros the Tall was whisked away from the grey chamber into a brilliant light.

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**_Yes, I have introduced an original character into the mix. She is the only original character that will show up in this fiction. She plays a minor part in this fic, but in others she is a leading character. I hope you like her so far._**

**_And no, she is not a Mary-Sue. I read somewhere that Elven love is instant and powerful, and that little can break it. Hence the reason why Maedhros reacted the way he did toward her. So please do not mistake her for a Mary-Sue. (I HATE Mary-Sues, if you could not tell, and would not wish any of my characters to be taken as such.)_**

**_Again, thank you to lokimademedoit for reviewing my other chapter. Your feedback is much appreciated._**

**_Please tell me how I'm doing! Hannon le, and I shall update again on April 29th._**

**_-Fanatic_**


	3. REUNION

**_Written by GundamWingFanatic90. Submitted 4-29-07._**

**_Summary: Maedhros Fëanárion was the brave warrior that followed his father to his death and never shed a tear, or so the stories say. The Trees are remade, romance blossoms, and a reunion is at hand._**

_I finished writing The Books of Dante, and got the idea for this fic a while after. It was just begging to be written, and so here it is._

**_Maedhros, Maglor, Fingon, Fëanor, Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, The Lord of the Rings, the Silmarillion, and all related/mentioned characters (c) J.R.R. Tolkien._**

**_Chapter Warnings: Out-of-character Fëanor and Maedhros. I hope you do not mind._**

**_PART 3 OF 3._**_

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**_Speaking With the Dead.  
Part 3._**

_REUNION._

What was this? Maedhros had been walking home from making a delivery when light had suddenly exploded from the direction of the green hill of Ezollahar, a place where light had been absent from for many years. He had stopped, throwing his arm over his eyes to prevent blindness, and as his eyes adjusted, his vision had cleared enough that he was able to make out the vague shapes of a pair of trees sprouting atop the hill. His jaw had dropped in realization.

Currently, he heard his name being called, and turned to see three Elves making their ways toward him, all shading their own eyes from the sudden onslaught of light.

"Maedhros! What is this?! What does it mean?!" cried the blonde one. Maedhros grinned at his young friends.

"This, mellyn-nin, means that the Silmarils have been broken! The Trees have been remade!" he cried. "Behold, younglings, the light that I was born under, the light that Yavanna gave to the world before the time of Men! Behold! Laurelin and Telperion!" Their eyes now adjusted, the two dark-haired Elves and their blonde companion turned wide-eyed gazes to the two Trees.

"These are Laurelin and Telperion?!" cried one of the identical raven-haired Elves.

"Aye, that they are, Elrohir. That they are." Maedhros cast a glance at the three of them. "Elladan! Elrohir! Legolas! Stop gawking. You'll catch flies like that, and you look like Elflings!" They snapped their jaws shut, but refrained from glaring at their Ages-older companion. A hand landed on Maedhros' shoulder, and he glanced around behind himself to see the same elleth that had come to him in Mandos. Her silver eyes were aqua with amusement and glee, and she seemed just as surprised and joyous about the Trees as he was. They both bore broad grins, and, before they could register what they were doing, they had embraced each other in their happiness, the taller of the two spinning the shorter around in the air, laughing all the way.

When they stopped a second later, their lips met in a tender kiss. A tingling moved through Maitimo's entire body, and he felt her shiver slightly beneath his hands, but she was returning his gesture in kind. They parted after a moment, gazing into each other's eyes with wonderment.

"Maitimo…" she whispered to her friend-turned-lover. His lips stretched in a small smile.

"Dínenweth," he replied. Dínenweth smiled and buried her face in his chest as blood rushed to her cheeks. They stood in silence for a moment, and then she pulled back so that she could look back into his gray eyes.

"So, Maedhros…" she began, but he cut her off with another kiss.

They had known each other for about two centuries, now, as that was about how much time had passed since he arrived in Mandos, was reborn, and his mother went to Mandos and back for his father. No, Nerdanel had not passed on, but she had rather traveled to Mandos' halls and sought Fëanor out. Maedhros did not know what had transpired there, but he was content to know that his mother had come back happy. And it was thanks, in part, to the elleth that had befriended him after telling him of his pending reincarnation, and was now returning his kiss with equal fervor.

"I love you," he whispered to her. He felt her smile against his mouth.

"Im meleth le, Maedhros," she replied in kind. "Will you marry me?" He chuckled.

"I thought that I was the one who was supposed to ask you that." She pulled away and shook her head with a grin.

"Of course not! Where I come from, the elleths ask the ellons!" And they both laughed before a bright flash of light interrupted their conversation and they both shielded their eyes once more.

The Trees were glowing even further, their brightness pushing away all senses of guilt or grief for the moment. Then they were dimming to a bearable level once more, and Maedhros, turning slightly to face the Trees, noticed that there were now people around, coming out of their homes and crowding in the streets of Tirion to gawk at the remade Trees.

A gentle brush to his arm had him looking over to meet the knowing gaze of his smiling mother.

"When's the wedding to be, then?" she asked quietly, but he just grinned in response.

It wasn't long until the whole House of Finwë was standing around them, gazing at the two Trees in wonderment. The air buzzed with excitement and awe, little whispers breaking out like hissing wildfires across the square. It stayed like this for several moments before something wonderful happened.

Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas were moving off towards their fathers when Maedhros first heard the silence falling over the Elves in the crowd. He continued to stare at the Trees, paying it little heed. It was a minute longer until he noticed that a full hush had fallen over the entire square. Then he heard a voice that he had longed to hear for centuries.

"Ai, I returned hoping to find my family, and here I discover a group of Elflings gawking at the light of two Trees," it said. The voice held slight amusement in it, a light and lilting ring to the sound, but sadness and shame, as well. Maedhros, as well as the whole House of Finwë, spun around to stare in shock at the speaker.

Fëanor had not changed much in physical appearance from the last time that Maedhros had seen him alive. His long, black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, his bangs falling to frame his face; a light smile was splayed on his lips, and a clarity that had been rare in his final days was dancing in his eyes. One elegant eyebrow was arched in amusement, and his arms were crossed as he rested his weight over one leg. However, something about the way he held his shoulders betrayed a slight anxiety. Maedhros shook himself slightly in an effort to allay his astonishment, but when he did, he saw his grandfather slowly moving forward towards Fëanor, his eyes wide, hopeful, and vulnerable.

"Curufinwë…?" came Finwë's quiet question. "Fëanáro, my son, is it truly you?" A small, sad smile widened across Fëanor's face, and he stood straight, and uncrossed his arms.

"Aye, Atar, it is I," he softly replied. Then Finwë strode forward and embraced his son, tears spilling from his gray eyes as he cherished being in the younger Elf's presence once more. Maedhros scarcely had time to breathe before his brothers had all gone forward to greet their father with hugs. The Tall One took note of his mother standing off to the side, a small, gentle smile playing on her visage. Then a nudge to his side pulled his attention down to Dínenweth, who was grinning knowledgably up at him.

"Maitimo, I believe that your father has been greeted by all of his other sons and his brothers and father and step-mother. Mayhap you should go reassure him that you do not hate him for the curse that Morgoth made him place upon you and your brothers?" she suggested. He smiled, nodded, and then schooled his features into a stern half-frown before striding forward. Celegorm and Curufin, seeing him coming and catching sight of the slight frown, parted to allow him passage. The rest soon followed suit, falling silent as father's eyes met son's.

"…Nelyafinwë." Fëanor stated solemnly after a moment. Maedhros' eyes bored into his father's intensely, and the onlookers glanced back and forth between them nervously, wondering if they may have to break up a fight.

At long last, Maedhros strode forth so stand in front of his father, towering a whole half a head over the elder Elf. His brow creased even further. Then, in a movement so fast as to be a simple blur to the rest, the younger had cuffed the elder over the head before gathering him into an embrace.

"Why did you not tell us that something was wrong!?" he exclaimed quietly, but he was shaking, biting his lip so that his tears would not spill over. Fëanor chuckled a little, patting his son's head in a comforting gesture, but did not reply to the question. Instead, he simply held the younger Elf for a short time before someone in the crowd called for a celebration.

"The Trees are remade! This is grounds for festivity!" Maedhros and his father laughed quietly, and then let go. Russandol turned to the gathered.

"Ecthelion is right! Retrieve thy harps, fellows! Tonight is a night of merriment!" The sound of a flute echoed through the square, playing a lively tune. Ambarussa and Ambarto began to clap and stomp to give the effect of drums, and soon some of the Elves had begun to sing. Others began a rowdy, but graceful, dance, and before long half the square was partying. Maedhros and Fëanor moved off to sit on the stoop of a house, but the copper-top's gray eyes followed his fiancé across the square with a certain fondness as she danced and played the flute at the same time. Fëanor noticed this, and followed his son's gaze.

"…I'm to be married, now." Maedhros supplied. Fëanor smiled softly.

"Congratulations, ion-nin." He paused, his expression sobering. His son saw the emotions playing through his father's eyes, and gently placed his hand on his father's shoulder.

"Worry not, Atar." He glanced over to catch Fëanor's emerald gaze. "I could never hate you, especially after reading your letter." The raven-haired Elf's eyes lit up in realization.

"You got it!?" he exclaimed. A slow, sad smile spread across the lips of the russet-haired Elf, who reached inside his pocket to withdraw a well-worn, wrinkled, stained letter.

"I've only read it about two million, six hundred fifty-seven thousand, three hundred and one times." Their eyes met again, and silence reigned between them for a moment, the only sounds coming from the merrymakers in the square. Then Maedhros shifted his gaze to the letter in his hand. "I got it just after I was rescued from Thangorodrim." A flash of guilt and pain ran through both Elves' eyes, and Fëanor turned away.

"Your words are what kept me from dying, father." Fëanor blinked in surprise; he certainly had not expected such a confession from his proud son. "You made me realize once more that I was loved when I had fallen into depression, shame, and pain. You made me see that I was not alone in my agony; you made me realize that I had more yet to live for." Maedhros paused, and then continued quietly, "Your last letters helped everyone, I think. They all still carry them wherever they go; I have seen them reading your messages whenever they are in emotional pain or are angry. I should know: I do the same thing." Their gazes finally locked again, and relief was in one whilst gratitude was in the other, and the bond between father and son was evident in both.

"Thank you, Atar, for keeping us going until the bitter end," Maedhros finished. Fëanor cracked a smile at last, chuckling slightly and looking down at the cobblestones beneath their feet as he put his hand on his son's shoulder in a semblance of a hug.

"I love you, ion-nin." Now it was Maedhros' turn to smile.

"And I you, Atar." They fell silent for a moment before Dínenweth caught Fëanor's eye again where she had put down her flute to dance a jig. Finally the raven-haired Eldar prince barked a laugh and got to his feet, pulling his son up with him and shoving him roughly toward the crowd. Maedhros looked back at him bewilderedly.

"Go dance with your lady-love, Nelyo!" Fëanor laughed. "This night is as much for merriment as it is for reunions, and I am weary from the breaking of the Silmarils. Enjoy this night with your promised one! I shall see you at the mingling of the lights." A quick glance around the square revealed the absence of his mother, and Maitimo grinned wickedly, knowing that his father and mother still had not had their own reunion.

"Aye, Atar, I shall see you at the mingling of the lights. Say hello to Amillë for me!" And laughing, he caught Dínenweth's hands as she passed, and spun away. Maedhros barely had time to catch sight of his father's faintly flushed cheeks before he was pulled into the dance.

And everything was perfect.

It was only years later that he would be fully able to appreciate his father's presence as they bore the brunt of a siege of pranks unleashed by a pair of russet-haired, aqua-eyed twin boys together.

But that, mellon-nin, is another story.

_END._

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**...And so ends this tale of Maedhros and his family. I probably will not do any further fics in this fanfiction series. There will definitely be more Lord of the Rings and Silmarillion fics, just perhaps in a different story line. Hint, hint.**_

**I hope that you did not mind Dínenweth very much. Personally, she's one of my favorite OCs.**

**Thank you to whomever reviewed my story: lokimademedoit.**

**I sincerely hope that whoever read this story liked it, even if you did not send me a review to tell me so. I am just grateful that you have read it. Feedback is much appreciated, though! So, until the next time! Navaer!**

**-Fanatic**


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